For What We Have Never Possessed
by Sensoo
Summary: Alexander Anderson has spent his time in an emotional daze. Wolfe Heinkel is searching for a cure for her misery. Sometimes you can’t solve your problems alone. Lemon. AxH Yes, I am very sick. [Complete, but under revision]
1. For What We Have Never Possessed

Wow, my first complete Hellsing fanfic. I'm so proud of myself. ? I'd like to thank me, who provided support for me, who also did this mostly for, me.  
Umm...going to say, it all just came together like it did. I have not run through and done any heavy editing. And, wow...it's weird. First time I posted a lemon too. Please don't kill me. I am well aware of how OOC everyone is. T_T I tried, really. I don't know that much about Heinkel's background, and I haven't found a translation for the second half of volume 5 and for the entire volume 6. So please bear with me. I'm also not completely sure of Anderson's origins. Uh...but then again, nobody else seems to be, so I took some artistic license. Make that a lot of artistic license. Please don't strike me dead. Oh, and the title was rather spur of the moment as well. Am taking suggestions, of course. (And that involves giving me a review) --- I'm shameless. And yet another note, fanfiction.net does not read the automatic ellipses my word processor put in. I had to go back and do it manually. So if you see a period in a weird spot, it was probably meant to be an ellipses. Yes, I am a shameless abuser of ellipses...  
I'm not sure I like what I did to Anderson. I have manga Anderson. The nicer, gentler, Anderson, with fewer mental problems. Almost.mild- mannered. But, too late to change that. I'm running low on time so any rewrites will have to wait.  
Umm, yea, enjoy. Please. If you can.  
  
And Hellsing does not belong to me. Nope. I wish. Yummy homicidal maniacs...  
  
For What We Have Never Possessed  
  
Even with his fullest concentration, Paladin Alexander Anderson could not drown out the mind-bending howls of the child in the room below him. She wailed endlessly, her screams and curses continuing without hope of reprieve. He could hear the nuns trying to calm her, and knew their efforts would be futile; the girl had worked herself into a hysterical rage, and there was little else to do besides grit one's teeth and wait it out.  
As much as the situation resembled a demonic possession, it wasn't. It wasn't entirely the child's fault either. She had come to the orphanage from heinous circumstances and was understandably, disturbed.  
The sound of breaking glass and pounding on wood let him know that she had gotten quite physical. More curses, cries for help, and animalistic cries led him to the conclusion that she had been restrained. As he counted the passing minutes, he realized she had fallen silent, and wondered if it was of her own volition, or if she had been medicated.  
Either way, Anderson said an extra prayer for her as he polished his knives. The child could not help what she was, or the circumstances that made her. She was only a child; she did not know any better. And even if she did, she was only a child with no Christian upbringing. It was such a crying shame. So many lost children, and no one who could offer them the simple justice of a loving home. Turned out to the streets to fend a filthy living in a corrupt world. Abandoned. Alone. Utterly lost with no hope of salvation.  
Such a fate was far too cruel for any of God's creatures.  
God's creatures ...There are things that walk the Earth that are not of God. There are Hell spawn that haunt the night and prey on the soul the innocent. Unholy denizens of Hell. And they deserve pain.  
...But did they deserve the fate that was far too cruel for any of God's creatures? Had they not once been of God? Had they not once been.  
The general nostalgia sickened him. He had no sympathy for the undead. Their souls had long departed and dæmons inhabited their forms. Dæmons capable of deceiving anyone who was foolish enough to believe in their humanity. Dæmons like the disciple of damned Hellsing vampire. That girl with the red hair.  
Of course she had feared him. She saw the holy zeal in his eyes and the blessings on his blades. And through it all, she wore the mask of Seras Victoria. She clung to that dead woman's identity with startling tenacity. She believed that because she inhabited that body, because she had the memories, she was Seras Victoria. The accuracy of the masquerade was simply astonishing.  
And her refusal to drink blood. Exactly what a good girl like Seras Victoria would have done. Yet, Anderson knew the hunger of a vampire could not go forever without being satiated. Sooner or later she would give in to temptation. Sooner or later she would drain the lifeblood out of another mortal. Sin cannot be hidden forever.  
Sir Integra Hellsing was a foolish woman. Strong, noble, perhaps even admirable, but she was a fool. No mortal can control those creatures forever. Their baser instincts surface, and it is useless to try to suppress them. She sacrificed honor in employing the Nosferatu. It was all with good intent of course; she believed that Hellsing alone had the power to eradicate the night dwellers. Yet, the flaw with her reasoning could not be overlooked... Still, perhaps, one could romanticize her as a sort of tragic Faust; her harmartia being hubris.  
Anderson smiled ruefully. Perhaps he could identify with her sin.  
He was one man blessed by God.  
But he was only one man. And he was only a man.  
He ran his fingers across the prominent scar on his left cheek. Being a regenerator was not always...fun. And killing was not always...pleasurable. Though he could hardly deny the call of battle...the heat of blood. He could not justify it. After every hunt, he would do severe penance for his...sins.  
Still, he was hardly a suitable priest. Due to the carnage and such...what kind of example was he for the children? Well, they weren't aware of everything he did.  
He let the holy knives rest on his knees as he stroked the stubble on his chin. He laughed softly at his thoughts.  
For a chosen holy templar of God, he made a rather scruffy priest.  
"Father Anderson?" A knock came at his door.  
Anderson quickly shoved his knives out of sight and took a look around his sparse room for any other incriminating items. Damn it was messy.  
"Come in," he called, adjusting his collar a little sheepishly. Indeed, he was no shining example to anyone.  
The door opened, and the slender form of Wolfe Heinkel slunk into his quarters.  
"Lovely place," she commented wryly. Anderson raised a brow.  
"...Heinkel, what brings you here?"  
"Just in the neighborhood- decided to check up on my fellow Iscariot." She smiled sardonically.  
"I'm honored- a social call from the misanthropic Wolfe Heinkel?" Anderson smiled back, less sarcastically, and more predatorily.  
Heinkel leaned back against the wall, her shades sliding precariously off her nose, and a cigarette dangling from her mouth. "...I was bored."  
Anderson shrugged. "It's not very exciting here."  
"...It's a bloody orphanage; what a terrible place."  
"I assume you are not fond of kids?"  
"...Well I obviously don't have any of my own."  
Despite the irreverence of her humor, Anderson chuckled. "True, true. Is Yumiko with you?"  
"Nah. Yumiko has...other things to do. Yumiko's not like us," Heinkel said with a trace of bitterness. "And Yumie is simply too...spastic for every day life."  
"...I'm a regular berserker, myself, Heinkel."  
"I know. But, I was bored, and I figured I'd come chat with a fellow Iscariot," she reiterated casually. "You know, someone who won't think I'm crazy when I talk about the walking dead."  
"...Yumiko, for all her gentleness, knows about as much as I do." Anderson was slightly puzzled at her reasons for coming. Heinkel was by no means, friendly. She was efficient and business-like. He was pretty sure he had not seen her in any other mode.  
"Yumiko doesn't like to talk about the stuff Yumie does. Besides, Yumiko doesn't feel the same way we do. After all, she's got two people in her head.if not more."  
Heinkel frowned at Anderson's expression. Were the Scots all this dense? Hell, she didn't want to flat out say, "Hello, Iscariot has put a serious crimp in my social life. I have no friends. So, you kill things too? Let's be buddies."  
"...Come to talk about freaks?" Anderson flexed his fingers with a slight grin.  
"Came to talk."  
Anderson retrieved the blades he had shoved under a pillow and the chamois he'd been using. He mildly wondered what the other clergy members were thinking. This strange crass woman showing up past dinner to see a priest; it was a rather interesting situation.  
"Aren't you going to offer me a seat?" Heinkel asked dryly as she lit her cigarette.  
"Want a seat, lass?"  
"Don't mind if I do." She moved over to Anderson's bed and took the unoccupied space beside him.  
Anderson did not comment, but brought out another set of blades from beneath his bed. With startling deftness he began to clean them as well.  
"...Don't do much with your downtime, eh?" Heinkel took a long drag on her cancer stick and stared coolly at Anderson from behind her shades.  
"I'm a priest," he said rather blandly.  
"So offer me a drink."  
Anderson stared blankly at Heinkel. The younger woman seemed.tense. This behavior was surprising. Women were simply unfathomable.  
"Of what?"  
"...Something strong."  
Anderson did not possess the presence of mind to be embarrassed. They both knew that nights were long and lonely, and the mind played far too many tricks to be trusted to its own devices. Sometimes an old cure- all did some good.  
"Upper corner of that cabinet." He gestured to one that was well placed, to deter curious children from discovering his cache.  
Heinkel glanced at him darkly. "I'm not tall enough to reach that."  
Anderson exhaled, still bewildered by her presence. He put aside the weapons and procured the liquor. He offered it to Heinkel who uncorked it and drank it straight up. She rested the bottle in her lap.  
"Thanks."  
"You're welcome." Anderson returned to his spot. "I must ask, why have you come? We're not especially close. No enmity, but we're not...friends."  
She did not answer, but instead took a long swig from the bottle before offering it back to him. Anderson shrugged and took a drink as well. He passed it back to the stoic woman. She downed a bit more.  
"...Do I have to keep spelling it out, Anderson? I want to talk. About what? I have no idea. I just know I want to talk to another human being who won't give me their constant prattling sympathies."  
"...So you came to me." Anderson decided that this was shaping up to be an interesting conversation and put aside his work.  
"Yea. I kill. You kill. I figured there might be some understanding here."  
Anderson nodded slowly. "Something bothering you?"  
Heinkel's smile was not pleasant.  
"Life in general."  
"Is this a confession?"  
"Probably." Heinkel took another gulp. "Russian pisswater, eh?"  
"I don't go to the liquor store often." Anderson noted the droop in her posture and the bitterness in her voice. It was night and he was finally beginning to truly awaken. All this hunting had thrown his internal clock into chaos.  
"I hate this shit." Heinkel's shades were truly in danger of falling off, and Anderson detected a slight tremor in her voice.  
"We're doing God's work," he answered gently, not really needing to inquire what this "shit" was.  
"...Yea, I know." Her composure returned as she looked at him. "But don't you ever have issues with faith? Don't you ever wonder why the Hell it had to be this way?"  
The shock slowly invaded his body making its way up to his mind. Heinkel was having a crisis...and of all the choice maniacs of Division XIII, she'd chosen him as a confidante. Anderson sighed softly.  
Conflicts of faith? Perhaps...but those were put aside for the concrete evil before him. FREAKS, vampires, ghouls, etc. etc. etc.  
"I'm an instrument of God," he said simply. "But, of course, I have my doubts about some issues."  
Heinkel was silent for a long time. Anderson sat before her, studying her blank face. Her messy blonde hair managed to add additional cover for her eyes. The cigarette butt was clenched firmly between her teeth. Heinkel did not come off as very womanly. She reminded him of a certain Hellsing...  
And that certain Hellsing reminded him of himself.  
Perhaps that was what Heinkel had been referring to earlier.  
"Division XIII's a mental ward, isn't it?" Anderson mused. "Yumiko has multiple personalities; I'm a Scot with an uncontrollable rage; Father Maxwell is simply...devious," Anderson grinned. "What's wrong with Wolfe Heinkel?"  
She fingered the cross that hung around her neck. "Wolfe Heinkel takes no joy from life. Thou shalt not kill, and yet, what do I spend my time doing? Hell, it's fuck'in necessary, but...I get tired. Sometimes I wish someone would just strike me down in battle...and that would be the end. But I can't just let that happen, can I? I can't seem to die...and neither can you. How's it feel?"  
"Exhilarating in battle. Tedious in life."  
"Same here."  
"You should not regret the gift God has given you, Heinkel."  
"I know."  
"It would help if you didn't always isolate yourself, lass." He towered over the younger woman.  
"...I know."  
"So you came to me."  
"...You won't give me pity. I have pride, Anderson. It is a sin, I know. But I cannot possess any of the meekness of the innocent."  
  
"I know the feeling. And it hurts to be alone. But in the end, we must bear it; it is life. And being a regenerator, I know what it's like...to be alone."  
"What about worthless?"  
"...You're not worthless."  
Heinkel fell silent once more.  
It was strange, to see her this way. She, who always seemed to be in unruffled control, so...depressed. And why not? The life of a paladin was hard. Even more so when one felt so lonely. For a moment, her tragic figure reminded him of the crying child from before. Heinkel would not carry on in the same manner, but she would internalize all that pain, that suffering.  
Heinkel finished the bottle as Anderson contemplated her condition. This huge Scotsman tolerated her hedonism with surprising patience, and for that, she was exceedingly grateful. With the darkness growing, she removed her sunglasses. Hell, she was so tired. She slumped forlorn on his bed.  
Anderson noted with surprise that she had taken off her shades. With the new picture in place, he studied her features. Her hair was more unruly than his and a little longer. Her face was distinctly feminine, and her pale lips, full. She had captivating eyes, startling bright, and strangely unfocused at the moment. She was, to his initial surprise, quite pretty.  
"Do you have any plans for the rest of the week?" Anderson asked quietly.  
"Not that I know of," Heinkel answered honestly. She looked up at the priest who offered only understanding.  
"Why don't you stay around here for awhile? The rest will do you good."  
Heinkel stared at him wordlessly.  
"I..."  
Anderson stood and gave her a reassuring grin. "You need the rest as much as I do. Take my room; it's messy, but you'll have all the privacy you need."  
"...Thank you," she said quietly, unsure of what else to say.  
"You're welcome. I'll see you in the morning."  
"Yes."  
He nodded to her, and exited the room, shutting the door behind him.  
Heinkel dropped her coat on the floor and the weapons on top of the pile. Looking around, she placed her accessories on the nightstand and pulled the blankets back.  
What the Hell was she doing?  
She wasn't sure, but she didn't have the desire to leave the orphanage that night. With a strangely accepting sigh, Wolfe Heinkel, slid beneath the covers and rested fell into a dreamless slumber.  
  
Anderson was not exactly certain what had come over him. Still, he made himself comfortable by the door. One of the nuns gave him an odd look and he smiled back brightly.  
"Our charming guest has my bed," he explained.  
  
Heinkel finally began to stir after finding she was facing the east.  
  
Damn sun.  
Whoops. Blasphemous thought; she'd make up for it at confession. Later.  
She finally opened her eyes at the sound of yelling children. Another unholy thought crossed her mind.  
Heinkel groaned as she realized what she had done the night before. She looked around the room, and found it seemed much tidier. Her coat had been picked up and hung neatly in the closet, and a set of robes, along with basic hygienic materials had been laid out for her.  
Anderson had been in here.  
Well of course, it was his room.  
Heinkel stretched rather reluctantly. This was the best she'd slept in ages. Still, Anderson would probably give her a hard time for sleeping in. She slid out of bed and took the items.  
Now where was the bathroom?  
  
Anderson ate his lunch with gusto. He'd been a little late for breakfast, and so, missed it. Yet, the nuns had mercy and he was now enjoying a large lunch.  
"...Good afternoon, Father Anderson."  
Anderson turned to see Heinkel standing there, in the robes he'd put out. She looked rested and he greeted her.  
"Join me for some lunch, Heinkel. Then we can take the children out for some football."  
Heinkel forced herself not to wrinkle her nose at that suggestion. Already she'd received some curious looks from the children. It was rather annoying.  
"Whatever you say."  
Heinkel wandered up to the kitchens and retrieved some food, before sitting down with Anderson.  
"Is it edible?"  
Anderson laughed heartily.  
"See for yourself."  
Heinkel looked at him balefully before spooning some soup into her mouth. "Not bad. Not bad."  
Anderson grinned at her. "Eat up, lass. I'm going to kick your butt in some football." Heinkel recognized that competitive mad light anywhere, and smiled in spite of herself.  
"...That' s what you think."  
  
It was times like these that made Alexander Anderson believe that life really was good. The spreading warmth of sunlight was a wonderful contrast to the usual cool moonlight that he was so used to. He chuckled and adjusted his glasses. Yes, it was a fine day to be alive.  
Heinkel, on the other hand, made sure to get her shades on before leaving the mess hall. She stood beside him, dwarfed by his massive frame. This temperate Anderson was not the Anderson she knew. Did everyone have a hidden persona besides her? Heinkel glanced up at the older priest and shoved her hands into her pockets. Maybe it was a mistake to come here.  
"It's a fine day, isn't it Heinkel?"  
"...I suppose." She noted a ragtag troop of children coming their way. One held a familiar black and white ball.  
"You promised to play football with us, Father Anderson!"  
Anderson grinned at Heinkel. "Aye, I did."  
  
It was more fun than she thought. This football...soccer, whatever they called it. She and Anderson had been placed on opposite teams. It took all the self-control she possessed not to simply steal the ball away from every child. Instead, she focused on covering Anderson, the big oaf. He was laughing and playing, going easy on the children. The contrast between I-love-orphans Anderson, and I-hate-vampires Anderson annoyed her a bit. Through all of this, how could he be so happy...?  
She stole the ball away from a boy and ran, dribbling it down the field. Noting Anderson ahead, she decided to pass it to a rather hapless looking boy behind him. She kicked it hard, still running toward Anderson, drawing his attention. Momentum was a powerful thing and she let it carry her by.  
He tripped her.  
It was probably accidental. And in her mind, it all occurred rather slowly. One moment she was sliding through the grass, the next she was horizontal mid-air. Then she went back to the grass.  
Heinkel glared at the ground rather balefully and then looked up at Anderson.  
"Are you all right?" He asked extending a large hand.  
"...Been better." Heinkel ignored the hand and picked herself up, wondering if there was any chance for her to regain her pride. The kids had all stopped to stare and she decided that no, there was no chance. She sighed and brushed herself off.  
To her surprise, and chagrin, Anderson began to chuckle.  
"You should've seen your face, lass! T'was priceless!"  
Heinkel favored him with a dark look and resisted the urge to do something immature, like kicking him in the shins.  
  
Anderson realized his mistake as Heinkel silently stalked off. He looked rather sheepishly at the group of children.  
"I'm sorry, I better go after her."  
After much protest, and even a few tears, they let him go. By then however, Heinkel was out of sight. He searched for her aura and found it stationary in one of the gardens. Perhaps she needed more time alone.  
He massaged his temples slowly. There was a certain agony and ecstasy that came with their lifestyle. A primal rush that ensured survival and something darker. He knew about that. Yes, he knew all about that.  
  
Heinkel stayed in the gardens all afternoon. As twilight fell, she stirred from her spot on cooling stone and ivy. It was truly childish to sit and sulk. Anderson probably knew where she was, but wisely left her alone. There was a certain emptiness about her. An unalienable loneliness that only served to deepen the bitterness of her fate. Heinkel brooded, somewhat ashamed of all the self-centered thinking. Maybe it was a hormone issue.  
God, she was so miserable.  
She remained there a bit longer, holding a rather optimistic hope that a miracle might occur and she would wake up ten years ago. But you can't change the past.  
It was very dark before she decided to leave. Yes, she would leave. She would thank Father Anderson for his time and his care, and apologize for any inconvenience that she might have caused. With a groan, she stood, a little sore from the spill she had taken. Work usually required intense concentration and dodging bullets. Not being tripped by a Scottish behemoth in a rough game of football. She scowled.  
As she exited the garden, she noted movement by the windows. Curious, she wandered a bit closer, and in the pale moonlight, saw two figures prowling. Automatically she palmed her guns. Why the Hell would people want to burglarize a bloody orphanage? People were so stupid. Heinkel growled in the back of her throat as she drew nearer.  
The two figures turned towards her. Crimson light shone in their eyes, and Heinkel recognized the breed.  
Vampires.  
"Oh Hell." Her guns weren't loaded with the appropriate vampire killing materials. Where the Hell was Anderson?  
"Catholic scum," one of the supernatural vandals yelled.  
Momentarily forgetting about her lack of proper ammunition, Heinkel opened fire on them. Bullets pierced flesh, only to be ejected after a few minutes.  
"We're vampires you fool!"  
Heinkel gritted her teeth as they came charging at her. She threw herself to the right, narrowly missing flesh-tearing talons. She rolled, keeping low as the vampires continued their attack.  
They were both male, and clad, ever so originally, in black. She made a mental note to commend that damned Hellsing Nosferatu for his originality.  
"It's a woman," one of them leered rather suggestively.  
The other lunged, and Heinkel jumped back, parrying its blows with her guns. Damnit, this situation was getting out of hand. She smashed the side of one of her guns into the vampire's face. It snarled and backhanded her. She fell backwards onto the soft earth.  
"This bitch has been a lot of trouble." The duo stood above Heinkel as she tried to focus her vision. Damn these undead dæmons and their supernatural strength. One delivered a swift kick to her ribs. The Iscariot bit her lip as she felt the rage mounting. These were cheap FREAK vampires; there was no way under the will of God that she would lose to some cheap imitation of blasphemy. As one leaned over, Heinkel brought her knee up and rammed him in the neck. Even if he was dead, that had to do something. She rolled backwards and brought herself into standing position.  
"Come on you unholy bastards. Let me send you back to Hell!" She fingered her cross with smile. It was silver, blunt, but silver.  
But before she had a chance to test out her idea, one of the vampires howled. Heinkel raised a brow at the sight of a grinning Anderson, flicking the dust off of one of his masonry trowels/knives/sharp shiny things. Oh Hell, who knew?  
"Demonic bastards! How dare you set foot on this sacred ground?!" Heinkel recognized that mad glee which relieved her. This was the Anderson she knew. The remaining vampire, she didn't bother trying to tell them apart any more, leapt back, avoiding the swing of Anderson's blades. Anderson laughed as he released a barrage of blades, some hitting the vampire, some merely falling at its feet.  
The undead screamed, but did not die.  
He could have easily finished it there, or even before that, but he did not. The dæmon collapsed, whimpering. Heinkel adjusted the robes and looked at Anderson quizzically. He did not return her gaze. Instead, he focused on the flailing pile of meat.  
"Why did you come here?"  
"...The blood of innocents is the sweetest of all," the vampire spat.  
  
Heinkel snorted. This was ridiculous.  
Anderson wrenched on of his knives out of the writhing vampire. "Infernal creature, your passing will not be easy."  
Heinkel merely watched as Anderson released his frustrations on his victim. It was not a pretty or an easy sight to behold.  
He raised the trowel, baring his teeth at the fiend. "E nomine patris, ex fili, ex spiritus sancti..." And plunged it into the vampire's heart. "...Amen."  
"...Nice."  
Heinkel's pulse throbbed in her ears and with the sharp pain in her side, she wondered if something was seriously damaged. Anderson turned to her with a wild grin. His eyes glowed with the light of mad triumph.  
"There are more, Heinkel." He extended two blades. "This is all I have to offer; would you join my hunt?"  
Silently, she accepted the blades.  
"Come, the blood rage cleanses."  
And she followed.  
  
There had been an increase in FREAK activity, as of late. Still, they posed little challenge, and Anderson eradicated them with ease. Heinkel worked with the weapons she had been given. It was awkward, but she managed.  
FREAKs and ghouls were all they ran across, but they tore them to shreds. It was simply cathartic. Perhaps they saved quite a few lives that night, but it did not matter. The descent into blood rage propelled them on, giving them pain and purpose, and most importantly, victory. Oh God, forgive the weakness of your servants...  
Heinkel and Anderson found themselves in a rural location, the site of their last hunt of the night.  
The vampire had fled into a forest. Anderson tracked it with Heinkel trailing behind. She was tired, yet a strange satisfaction covered her as she caught a glimpse of her quarry.  
Anderson moved quickly, but Heinkel claimed it. She hurled the blade with accuracy, and it passed through dust before embedding itself in wood. Anderson turned, his lips curled in a snarl.  
"That was mine, Heinkel."  
She narrowed her eyes at him, amazingly, her shades were still intact. "The fire still rages in my blood," she told him coldly.  
Anderson laughed harshly. There was no sign of the pleasant Anderson or disinterested Heinkel of the day, only two predators, absorbed in each other. "Is that a challenge, Wolfe?"  
Heinkel stiffened at his informality. "I'm not afraid of a regenerator, Alexander." She took a fighting stance, endowed with the grace of her namesake.  
"I'll play nice, lassie." He seemed almost amused.  
Heinkel raised her remaining blade as Anderson chose one. He rushed her, slashing wildly, forcing her on the defensive. Heinkel parried and countered, ignoring the fact that one stab wound could finish her off. There was no existence of conscious thought; pure instinct drove her on. She felt her back hit a tree, and as Anderson closed in on her, she lashed out, her knife slashing him in the head and knocking off his glasses. Anderson reeled from shock and fell back. She was vaguely aware of her actions. Enough to be both appalled and amused at her treatment of the older paladin. He was obviously making allowances for her lack of supernatural ability. Heinkel grinned maliciously as she crushed the wire and glass beneath her boot.  
Anderson growled, the wound closing quickly as he rose. "You're going to regret that, lass." His voice was husky and Heinkel stepped back, wondering for a moment if she hadn't made a mistake. Anderson was fast, much faster than she had anticipated. He struck with a curled fist, and as a flash of light burned through Heinkel's vision, she simultaneously noted that she had been airborne, before hitting the ground a few feet back. Hard. And still she was certain that he'd pulled his punch. She groaned and realized that her shades had been knocked off. She looked up and saw them lying about a yard away. That sight was interrupted by a heavy black boot coming down on the eyewear and then grinding them into the ground.  
"Bastard," she growled, unsure if it was because of the demise of her shades, or the fact he'd only hit her with part of his might.  
"I told you, you'd regret it."  
Heinkel's response was to tackle him. She slammed the heel of her hand into his nose as they fell. He grunted.  
She was much lighter than he, but Anderson let her remain on top, her hands now gripping his collar. She glared down at him, her heels digging into his side. He stared back up at her, his green eyes growing with what seemed to be approval.  
This put her off balance for a moment. What the Hell was he so smug about?  
Anderson took advantage of this distraction to reverse positions. Almost effortlessly, he rolled them over. Heinkel cursed as she found Anderson straddling her. There was no way in Hell that she was going to lose to this dense piece of Scottish beef. However, Anderson's pin was good, and she went rigid as he pinned her wrists above her head. With a smug grin, the paladin leaned over her.  
"Gotcha."  
  
Heinkel snarled at Anderson. He was still in berserker mode, and she was lucky to have survived, relatively unscathed, but in her predicament, she detected something different about the priest. His face was inches from her own, piercing emerald eyes met her own, and she raised her chin in defiance. A smile crept over his rough features. Contrary to what Heinkel wanted everyone to believe, she was feminine. She was, as he had observed the night before, pretty. Even now with the flush of anger and battle still apparent on her face, and her blonde hair tossed in disarray, he recognized that beauty. He slowly released her hands, but did not move from his seat. Anderson must have still been experiencing the heady thrill of impassioned battle. Heinkel was not sure if she trusted the pleased expression on his face. It was far too predatory, and definitely a far cry from the mild- mannered man she'd been dealing with last night. But that was almost a relief. "Why did you come to me, Wolfe?" Anderson purred softly, his eyes never leaving her face. "...Damnit you idiot; I've told you several times: to talk!" If it were possible, Anderson's grin widened. "I'm listening."  
  
Somewhere in the confines of his mind, Paladin, Father, PRIEST, Alexander Anderson was trying to get a grip on his sanity. Here he was, at some ungodly hour, in the middle of nowhere, atop an attractive coworker. He vaguely recalled the usual vow of celibacy taken by a clergyman. Somehow, had he been exempt? Well, he was doing a lot of things most priests weren't allowed to do. Killing, killing, more killing, etc. etc. etc. How much deeper did the rabbit hole go? Heinkel opened her mouth to say something, but the words never came. Anderson silenced her efficiently, his calloused hands cupping her face, and his lips pressed firmly against hers. His tongue delved into her hot mouth, muffling any form of verbal protest.  
  
Wolfe Heinkel had been kissed before. Sweet things -warm and clumsy. All done with some silly little boy in that far-off epoch of her youth; but never like this. Never beneath a man, never in such a compromising position. Her breath quickened. Her mind flailed under this new assault. How.dare.he? That was all she could come up with under the circumstances. She raised her hips, trying to throw him, but he only held her tighter. Eliciting a soft involuntary moan, from the trapped woman. She never thought like this. It was an issue of discipline. She blocked carnality and avoided it at all costs. It was sin. It was taboo. And now, temptation came from the unlikeliest of sources: Paladin Alexander Anderson. He was handsome, in a rough and rugged sort of way. And if she were ever to have married, it could not have been someone without strength. He was big-a tall man with a strong frame and a hard body. For a moment, she considered throwing him off of her and filling his head full of lead. It wouldn't kill him, but it would make him think twice about ever touching her again. Yet, the warmth of his embrace beckoned, and as the hot blood of battle turned to another direction, Wolfe Heinkel relinquished all control.  
  
The taste of blood filled Anderson's mouth. He realized, albeit a bit late, that he had bitten Heinkel. Yet, she did not draw away. Her hands pulled him closer, craving his heat and his touch. He returned the contact just as forcefully, one hand still stroking her cheek, and the other running through her soft blonde hair.  
  
Heinkel didn't care any more. Was this companionship, this need, been the object of her searches? Was this the desire of her heart? For something forbidden to her, it felt simply divine. Anderson had gotten a little rough and nipped her, but that only enhanced, even defined the need. Absently, she realized that he had removed his gloves at some point. Now...what was he doing? Heinkel trembled as she felt his tongue, hot and wet, slide across her neck...and his laughter, deep and throaty, laced with lust. She wanted him. She wanted him...what exactly did she want him for? Her body responded quite adroitly to that question. She simply wanted him.  
  
Anderson's mouth moved from hers, trailing down her throat. He ran his tongue along the inner contour of her ear, causing her to shudder. He chuckled, pleased with himself. Her hands moved lower, fumbling with his collar. She paused, her slender fingers tracing his jaw line, amused by the sandpaper roughness of the stubble. They lingered on his very pronounced scar, before turning his face up to hers. As their eyes met, he glimpsed a look of fear in the woman beneath him. Yet, her eyes were clouded with lust so he leaned in to kiss her once more. He growled as he heard his name on her lips. "Alexander."  
  
Heinkel stifled a cry as she felt him pressed against her thigh. It was a sensation that excited her. This was what it was like...this was what it felt like to be desired by a man? He hovered over her a moment, before commencing to kiss her once more.  
She murmured his name softly, not sure how to communicate her desire. It was too distracting; she tried to undo his shirt, but realized his coat was still in place, making undressing him quite complex.  
With some regret, she broke the kiss, and forced him to look at her.  
  
Anderson winced inwardly as he realized how far he'd taken Heinkel. How could he face her, knowing exactly what his intent was?  
She gazed up at him, almost awaiting his reaction.  
"Wolfe, I..." He stuttered, somewhat lacking the predatory confidence he had possessed earlier.  
"I can't get your shirt off with that coat in the way," she cut him off. He stared as her words sunk in. The dark desire surged through his veins once more and he slid out of the trench coat quickly. As he prepared to toss it off into the woods, a rather practical idea formed. He got off Heinkel, noting her shiver in the cold night air. He laid the coat out and placed the younger woman on top.  
"Better?" He murmured softly.  
  
Heinkel didn't answer his courtesy or his question. She merely focused on getting that shirt off of him. It took awhile, with all the moving around he did, but she finally managed to tear it off of him.  
He was incredibly beautiful in the moonlight. His tan skin covered well-defined muscles. His chest was broad and smooth. She traced her fingers along the hardness of his upper body. Simply magnificent.  
Her breathing was heavy, and she kissed his collarbone, moving down his chest as far as she could reach.  
  
Anderson groaned softly. Her mouth was hot, and against his skin, set his nerves aflame. One eye opened slightly as he watched Heinkel's tongue swirl around one of his nipples. She was still fully dressed.  
He would have to fix that.  
Gently pulling away from her ministrations, he quickly removed her robe and pants. She kicked off her boots and pulled him back to her. Now all that covered her were flimsy undergarments, easily disposed of.  
"Are you cold?" He asked gruffly, mincing formalities.  
"A little," she responded almost shyly.  
"I can fix that."  
He deftly unhooked her bra and lowered his head to her chest, kneading her breasts. He took one nipple in his mouth. Anderson alternated between suckling and nibbling on the sensitive tip. Then he moved to the other bud, accentuating her pleasure by massaging her soft mounds.  
Heinkel was far too inexperienced to strangle the whimper in her throat. Anderson was skilled, but he was not gentle. His movements were affecting her in more ways than she knew how to handle.  
Seeking some form of control, she raised her knee, rubbing his groin. She heard a sharp intake of breath, and felt Anderson stiffen. He narrowed his eyes and she felt her heart jump at his displeasure.  
"You want to play like that?"  
To her initial relief, a wicked grin appeared on his roguish face, and Heinkel arched her back as she felt his fingers slide between her thighs. She gasped softly at that caress, and stared at him, wide-eyed.  
"I..."  
He didn't give her a chance to explain. He simply caught her in another kiss, crushing her against his chest. He pulled away, much to her dismay and knelt between her legs. His mouth traveled down her hard stomach, while his hands removed her panties. She didn't see what had happened to her clothing.  
Anderson nuzzled her inner thighs.  
"Alexander..." Her voice held a note of desperation as she tried to pull him closer.  
"Hold on, Wolfe." He licked his lips and ran his fingers against her lower lips.  
"Ungh..." She gazed pleadingly at her tormentor. "Don't tease me, Alexander," her tone became more frantic as he brushed up against her clitoris.  
"Ask nicely," his voice was low, and sinful mischief glinted in his eyes.  
Heinkel inhaled deeply. "Please, Alexander," she murmured parting her legs a little further for him.  
Anderson reached over to stroke her cheek. "Since you asked so nicely..."  
"Just do it, damnit!" Heinkel ordered, not so politely.  
Her paramour only laughed smoothly, before returning to his work. His tongue quickly found her sensitized nub and he sucked it mercilessly. Heinkel thrashed beneath him, but his hands quickly restrained her motions. His tongue slid across her entrance, lapping up her juices. He could carry on like this for a long time.  
  
Heinkel clutched the fabric beneath her with white knuckles. Everything he did.the heat, the wetness of his tongue, the general effect he was having on her... Her hips quivered, and an implosion of heat rocked her body with pleasure. She cried out, much to Anderson's delight.  
As Heinkel's body continued to tremble, Anderson laughed. Her body was covered with a thin sheen of sweat, and her expression...there was nothing more satisfying to the flesh than a pleased lover. He could almost finish ignoring the tightness of his pants. Carefully, he guided a long finger into her. She tightened around his finger, and Anderson gasped softly at the sensation.  
She'd never been with a man. Heinkel shook softly. She was a little cold. The expression on Anderson's face worried her for a moment.  
"Is something wrong?" Her nervousness made him smile a little. "You're a virgin," he said simply. She nodded, somewhat puzzled by why that would be an issue. "Are you sure about this, Wolfe?" His voice was breathy, almost edgy. "Are you sure you want to give yourself to an old man like me?" "I want you Alexander." It was a simple truth. "It will hurt," he said softly. "...I can take it, you jack ass."  
  
Anderson smiled approvingly. She made her decision. He slipped another digit into her, causing her to gasp. Slowly, he scissored his fingers, causing yet another tense reaction. And then he withdrew his soaked fingers slowly. He caught her eyes and sensually licked them clean. Heinkel blushed as she watched him. She'd never expected someone like him to be so damn...erotic. He bent over and kissed her once more. "I've been patient, Wolfe. I've prepared you for me rather than simply throw you down to rut. And because this is your first time, I ask you once more, are you certain that you want to give yourself to me?"  
Heinkel recognized that look. That feral madness that had possessed him earlier. Had he really been biding his time so with such endurance? Hell, she couldn't think straight enough to care. She nodded.  
"I want to hear you say it."  
"Yes. Yes, I'm certain."  
  
Anderson reflected on the last time he had had a woman. It had been awhile. He saw a Heinkel watching him, timidly. It had never been with a woman like her. He relished the thought as he unfastened his pants and slowly slid his length into her.  
  
Heinkel suppressed any sound of pain. Anderson had finally stopped moving, and she wiggled her hips a little, amazed at how he filled her. He propped himself over her, stroking her face and kissing her gently. Anything to distract her from the pain.  
She took labored breaths, trying to get used to the sensation of his shaft deep inside of her. Without warning, he began to rock his hips, causing an incredible pressure to build up inside of her. The intensity of these new sensations overwhelmed her. Anderson, for all his words, remained patient. She kissed him again, and groaned quietly as he lowered her back to the ground, his thrusts beginning to pick up pace.  
  
The woman was incredible. She began to move her hips to a rhythm that complemented his own. He ground himself against her, driving himself into her burning core. Anderson felt Heinkel's fingers dig into his shoulders; she had an iron grip on him, drawing him nearer.  
He obliged her, brushing back a lock of hair. Her eyes were clouded with lust and he kissed her again.  
  
Heinkel thrashed beneath Anderson, the mounting tension almost unbearable, yet so superb. She watched his countenance as his drove himself deeper into her. That was more than enough to pleasure her, that combination of pleasure and strain that covered his face. He met her look and began to speed up. It was far more than her senses could register. He drew in and out of her. His motions were no longer tender, but it didn't seem to bother her now. Heinkel dazedly observed that he too was now covered in sweat.  
  
He was so close. But Heinkel's climax took priority. With a low growl and a bit of flexibility, he sat back, pulling her onto his lap. Heinkel nestled herself against his chest, muting her whimpers in his chest. With one hand he slowly rubbed her back, drawing her nearer. The other snaked down between her legs. Nimbly, he massaged her pleasure spot, as he continued to thrust straight up into her. "Scream for me," Anderson said in her ear. "Scream for me, Wolfe," he repeated hoarsely.  
Heinkel threw her head back and cried loudly, "Oh...Alex!"  
The desire laced in her voice coupled with her the tightening spasms were enough to drive him over the edge. He roared.  
  
Heinkel drooped against his chest, exhausted.  
When they could finally speak, Heinkel chose not to.  
"...Wolfe," she heard felt his warm breath in her ear.  
"Yea?" She listened to the beating of his heart, surrounded by his warmth. His coarse hands tilted her face up. Alexander was a beautiful man, she thought idly.  
"...What we just did...I didn't intend for it to simply be about the physical gratification. I..."  
She kissed him again.  
He untangled himself a bit too quickly for her liking.  
"What's wrong with you?" She growled a bit unhappily.  
"Are you tired?"  
Why was he sidestepping her question?  
"Yea."  
"Then I doubt you want to go for another round, Wolfe." He cracked a small smirk. "I am a regenerator, after all."  
Heinkel raised a brow.  
"And, you're already going to be terribly sore in the morning."  
"...Alexander..."  
"So you probably don't want to get me worked up again."  
Heinkel sighed.  
"Just hold me."  
  
Anderson lazily ran his fingers through Heinkel's hair, silently musing over the last night's actions. Hell, he'd let his hot blood take control, and the next thing he knows he's seduced the iron maiden of Iscariot. It truly was bizarre.  
Still, he wanted her. He wanted to keep her. The priest business was not especially conducive to romance, but he was also a regenerator. It had been implied that he was eventually expected to reproduce, and since fornication was wrong...  
Hell, he wondered how confession would be next week.  
  
Heinkel finally awoke in a somewhat familiar bed.  
Anderson was sitting beside her, a rather affectionate look on his face. One of his massive hands rested on her cheek.  
"Good afternoon, lass."  
Heinkel snorted and slipped beneath the sheets. She hadn't noticed it before, but the smelled of the same earthy richness as Anderson.  
"How'd you get us in without anyone noticing?" she asked from beneath the blankets.  
"Trade secret."  
"Indeed." Heinkel peeked over the sheets at a beaming Anderson. He'd found another pair of glasses.  
"How do you feel?" He snatched the covers away and revealed a nude Heinkel.  
"Lousy, now give me back the blankets." She sat up, grabbing his collar.  
"How do you feel about what we did?" He asked softly.  
Heinkel froze for a moment. "Foolish," she answered safely.  
"Oh." A flicker of hurt crossed Anderson's face. "I see," he stood. "I'm sorry to have taken advantage of you, Heinkel...I..."  
Heinkel cringed at his reaction. Last night she had decided that she'd truly found a good thing. There was no bloody way she was going to lose it now. Her resolve hardened and she grabbed the retreating Scotsman by his robes. "Alexander...I meant, I just meant..." She flinched as the soreness in between her legs made itself quite noticeable.  
Anderson turned and effortlessly lifted the younger girl in his arms. "I told you, you were going to be sore," he said quietly.  
"...Alexander, I didn't mean I regret what happened...just how we went about it. I mean, I mean...I don't know what the Hell I'm talking about and I want you to..."  
Mercifully, Anderson hushed her with a kiss.  
"I see," he answered.  
"Yea, and after last night, I'm sure you're as psycho as Yumiko, but I don't care 'cuz...I...I think...I think I'm in love with you," Heinkel spat out, feeling very foolish indeed. Hell, she sounded like a dumb little kid.  
"...I love you, Wolfe," he said huskily. "And I don't intend to let this go." He caressed her face. "Everything we did last night." He paused with a smile. "Especially what you did to my glasses..."  
Heinkel ignored the jibe and settled back into bed.  
There'd be time for payback, later.  
  
Uhh...I think that's it. I might write more. But really, I don't think there's anything else to write. Please give me a review- I'm an attention junkie. 


	2. Aftermath

It's me again. Thanks for the reviews! It made me so happy… T_T I almost cried. Well, I think I'm done with this. Really we don't need little regenerators running around with Auntie Yumie chasing them w/ a carving knife. O_O Umm, this is just a short follow up piece. Not sensational, but I thought it was kind of cute. Like Alexander Anderson, in the same disturbing way…  
  
It was strange, she decided absently. It was quite different to wake up beside someone, and even stranger to be in their arms. Of course, it was stranger still that that someone happened to be Alexander Anderson.  
  
She'd been alone for so long. Cold nights, meaningless days…Yumiko was her friend, yes, but there were sentiments that Yumiko could not understand. Pains that the other girl could never hope to heal. Oh, and that went for Yumie as well.  
  
Worthless.  
  
That was the one consistent opinion that she held of herself.  
  
Utterly worthless.  
  
But of course, the other Iscariots felt obligated to tell her it wasn't so. They said it with such sincerity and ignorance of her perspective. Even Yumiko could never comprehend it. Father Maxwell might have been a bit more knowledgeable, but he did not bring much consolation. Father Maxwell was sort of a father to all of them, with various exceptions. In her case, it made her stomach turn at times, because despite his indisputable concern, he was still ignorant of the burdens on her heart and the heinous acts she committed for the will of God.   
  
Heinkel grew more cynical, bitterer, and far unhappier in the darkness, as she continued to fulfill mission after mission. She seemed fine of course, calculating and painfully rational at all times, and to an extent, she was. However, despite the gifts of her mind, she was worthless. That old adage about destruction being simpler than creation lingered in her mind. Destroy, destroy, destroy, etc. And when she was old, and could no longer pursue her quarry, what use would she be? God loved her, but nobody else did. Well, as of a few nights ago, that had changed. Of all the fellow psychotic clergyman she could have forged a bond with, Father Alexander Anderson, the homicidal regenerator of Division XIII, was never one she had ever pictured.  
  
It was different to be so familiar with him. She had admired him from a distance, as a warrior and nothing more. Change. Now everything was changing. Perspective. Emotion. Reality.  
  
Heinkel wiggled a little, trying to get comfortable without rousing the man beside her.   
  
She wondered if she could confide in Yumiko. The Japanese girl was her best and arguably only friend, yet, because she had been unable to truly comprehend Heinkel's earlier problems, Heinkel believed telling her might prove to be unwise. Actually, it would be very unwise. Heinkel knew Yumiko and Yumie quite well, but she was very uncertain of the other girl's reaction.  
  
Yumiko didn't really realize the depths of Heinkel's gnawing unhappiness; you probably didn't get lonely with two people in your head. Heinkel inhaled softly as she watched her sleeping lover.  
  
He really was kind of cute.  
  
She stifled a snicker. Murderous priest did not really equal cute. The thought of his much despised nemesis catching wind of her description of Alexander Anderson has "cute and cuddly" was quite…hilarious. In fact, Alexander might even get the chance to finish Arucard, partly due to the invocation of his infamous wrath, partly because the vampire would have to be incapacitated by a fit of laughter. Heinkel mulled over the plot, but decided against it; Alexander would be mortified. Well, he wasn't just cute- he was a burly manly man. Cliché, but she could deal with it.  
  
A few wicked thoughts crossed her mind as she admired his naked form. Make that quite a few. Had her chaste youth been a waste? Heinkel protested that. No, she had found Alexander and it had been worth the wait.  
  
She rested her forehead against his chest. His strong arms were wrapped firmly around her waist. She nestled a little closer to him.   
  
Anderson opened one eye and glanced down at the woman he was holding. She was awake and he shifted his position a little to give her more room. It was hard to fit the two of them into a twin bed. Hell, it was hard enough to fit him into a twin bed, let alone another person.  
  
"Good morning," he purred softly in her ear.  
  
Heinkel looked up to see Alexander, sans glasses, grinning at her affectionately.  
  
"Morning Alex," she yawned and stretched, before wrapping her arms around his neck. Physical contact was a relatively new sensation, and she was rapidly growing to appreciate it. "I was just thinking…"  
  
"About?"  
  
"You, me, nothing important." She closed her eyes again.  
  
Anderson raised a brow, but pressed her closer.   
  
"Be more specific, lass."  
  
Heinkel decided she was ready to go back to sleep.  
  
"Come on, tell me."  
  
"No. Let me sleep."  
  
"Tell me," he rumbled. "Tell me or I'll get up."  
  
Heinkel glared at him for a moment.  
  
"It wasn't important, really."  
  
"Tell me…"  
  
She didn't like being threatened.   
  
"I was wondering how many pairs of glasses you've gone through."  
  
Alexander stopped for a moment, a puzzled look on his face.   
  
Heinkel took advantage of the instant, and got comfortable once more. Silly prat, he probably couldn't count that high.  
  
Surreal? Probably. My reality is surreality. So, you know the routine. Please review? (Geez, I'm a shameless begger.) 


End file.
